


Redemption for the Wicked

by DuskAndDawn1234



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hurt and comfort, I lived bitch, M/M, i love my gay cowboahs, rip john but arthur's different.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-29
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:59:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22464481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DuskAndDawn1234/pseuds/DuskAndDawn1234
Summary: " If there is such a thing as a maker. May he show mercy upon the ones i love. They’re good people… "
Relationships: Arthur Morgan/Dutch van der Linde, morgan x dutch, vandermorgan
Comments: 31
Kudos: 163





	1. Resurrection

The sky is painted in hints of pink and blue, A rising sun slowly driving away the darkness of the night and it’s stars. The stone he is laying on is cold against his back, it seeps through his clothes and into his tired bones. Often he’d wondered how the dying approached their death. Is it better to die fast? Or to die slow. He won’t find out either way, a man can only die once, and his cards have been dealt for him a long time ago.    
  
He can hear the forest waking up around him, despite the never-ending gunfire that just moments before seemed to pierce into his head, it is quiet now. No more screaming, no more bloodshed. Just the tweeting of birds.    
  


**_I guess I deserved this. Living the life I’ve had._ **

It was a bitter thought, but one Arthur deemed right. He didn’t have long now, knowing the sickness that was eating away through his body he tried to be the best man he’d never been. He got his family out, and that was more than most bad men could ask for.  _  
_ _  
_ As his last breaths rattle through his chest, he can see john disappearing in the distance. The bright coloured horse going as fast as it can as it carries his brother away to his new life. A life that would be better than anything they had before. And he takes solace in knowing that just once..He did the right thing.    
  
_**If there is such a thing as a maker. May he show mercy upon the ones i love. They’re good people…** _ _  
_ _  
_ It’s quiet as his eyes drift shut for the last time. He doesn’t even hear the footsteps approaching him. And he doesn’t feel the hands upon his shoulders as a familiar voice calls out his name.    
  
“ Arthur… _ARTHUR!_ “    
  


~

There were no pearly gates. No singing angels and choirs of the forgiven. No bright lights and redemption. No forgiveness.    
He craved the touch of something more, something deeper, but it never came.    
All there was, was darkness. Never-ending and unrelenting like a night that never passes. No stars to guide him home. No comfort and no familiar voices guiding him into his eternal rest.    
  
For a long while, there’s nothing. And then, in the distance, slowly comes the ticking of a clock. Soft and far away. The scent of a crackling wood fire.. The warmth of what seems to be a blanket tightly wrapped around his freezing frame.    
His senses are pulled back into the land of the living one by one. 

He can feel his hands.They’re cold, pressed against his chest. His heart, be it frantic, is still beating there. Thumping away as his eyes flutter open slowly And the swirling grey background begins to shift into something that makes sense again.    
  
**_I’m… alive?_ **

The revelation comes as a shock, as he breathes and confirms that he is indeed not 6 feet underground. Not yet at least.    
As soon as consciousness returns, so does the aching in his chest. His body tenses as he is forced to endure another coughing fit. The pain is sharp and shoots through his entire being, from his toes to the top of his skull.    
  
When the coughing ceases he feels how heavy his limbs are, and sinks further into the strangely comfortable bed.    
  
**_Where the fuck am i?.._ **

  
It’s a struggle to move. Like he’s stuck in quicksand.    
With all his might he tries to shift his head, and lets his eyes flicker through the room. It’s a cabin, mostly made from pine, which explains the smell that’s infused into everything. It mixes together with the pile of dried herbs that rests on the countertop, Reminding him faintly of the tent that Rain Falls invited him into when he was last in the reservation.    
There’s empty bottles and cans strewn about haphazardly on the floor, like someone has been hastily trying to prepare food and medicines. Empty health tonics, bitters, and many others he doesn’t recognize due to his blurry sight. He blinks but it doesn’t get much clearer. Though he manages to just about see the burning coals in the hearth, they’re glowing still, so it hasn’t been long since the fire went out.    
  
He can feel his body is weak, the muscles inside his arms straining as he slowly props himself up on them, even from this small action his head is sent spinning. Whoever brought him here has a lot to answer for. That’s for certain. For all he knows they left him here to die after dragging his body down that forsaken mountain and finding out he’s sicker than a mange riddled dog.    
It takes a long while for the nausea to settle, it comes in waves as he pushes his legs over the side of the bed, they’re thin, like the rest of him is. Thinner than he was. Thinner than he remembers.    
  
_ How long have i been sleeping for?..  _   
  
  
There’s nothing familiar about this place. No hints to who lives, or lived, here. Just dusty old furniture and some recently used pots and pans. The windows are blinded by the white dusting of snow, and the wind is howling outside. Straining against the wood and everything it can get a hold on.    
It’s not a warm climate, that’s for certain, everything feels cold without a fire going.    
  
Despite the lack of muscle in his legs he manages, only barely, to drag himself to his feet. Leaning on the counters that line the wall, all the way to the fireplace.    
“ H..Hello? “    
  
He calls out, the words barely making it from his dried and chapped lips, his throat feels like he’s been eating sand for a week, it throbs and scrapes as he coughs, but so far there’s no blood. His calls go unanswered. All he can hear is the wind and the thrumming of his blood in his veins.    
  
“ Hello? “    
  
Still nothing. It’s when he turns to make his slow and painful way back to the bed he came from that a slip of his hand has him tumbling to the floor. Where he hits the ground with his whole weight, and a set of stacked up pots roll down with him, clattering onto the hardwood floor of the cabin.    
  
“  _ Shit! _ “    
  
Truly, another insult to injury is not what he needs right now. And the throbbing of his head only gets worse as he tries to scramble back upright.    
It is then he hears the crackling of snow outside the front door. All Arthur can do is sit there, still as winter’s grasp on the land, as he watches it sway open slowly. And a burly figure appears in the doorway.    
Obscured by a thick fur coat and long hair, snow covering almost every surface of his clothes. And the wind whirling inside as he stands there. it still doesn’t hide the identity from a man he’d known for most of his life. A man he’d revered over all else. A man who had fallen from grace and taken down his family with him.    
  
A man he wasn’t prepared to see. Not now.. Not like this.    
  
“ _... Dutch.. ?  _ “    



	2. Questions and Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur demands to know where he is and how he got there.   
> dutch has the answers he needs to hear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm dedicating this one to Daniel van der linde, happy birthday friend!   
> \----- 
> 
> i am super glad y'all seem to like my writing! i hope this chapter will please you all! :D   
> lemme know what you think in the comments! they make my day bright!

Nothing happens.    
No gun in his face, no shouting, no brushing off of all the events that have transpired and no trademark laughter either.    
He just stands there, head bowed slightly downward. And time ceases to have much meaning to Arthur. He can feel himself tense up and he shifts uncomfortably on the floor.    
  
Dutch looks nothing like the image of perfection that had been branded into his memories, his moustache has joined up with a thick beard. Flecks of snow dusting it lightly. There’s bags under his eyes and he looks thin. Not as thin as arthur, but thin enough nonetheless.    
Neither of them seems to want to make the first move to break the silence. Where arthur expected to be met with confidence and assuredness he found only confusion and fear in those dark brown eyes. They’d lost their spark long ago.    
  
“ You’re awake.. “    
The words are soft, spoken with reverence and surprise. As if the mere appearance of arthur still breathing shocks him.    
Then again.. Being in the state he was in that was no surprise to the younger man.    
  
“ It seems i am.. “    
Arthur scoffs back, making an attempt to rise back to his feet. He can see dutch flinching to try and help, but a single heated look from arthur stops him dead in his tracks.    
“ Don’t fucking touch me.. “    
It’s more of a growl than a well-formed sentence. But it does what it was intended for. Dutch recoils like he’s been burned with a branding iron, and slinks back into the doorframe. His eyes obscured by the shadow of his hat.    
  
With the last of his strength he pulls himself upright. Knuckles turning white as he clings to the counter desperately.    
The pain in his chest is more overwhelming than he’d hoped, but nothing compares to the coiling fire in his gut that is bubbling to the surface. The air is thick with it, Boiling with it, and arthur knows that dutch can feel it too. They’d always been sensitive about each other's moods and emotions. Until recently arthur had always been able to tell if dutch was bothered by something. But not anymore..    
Anger is a virtue, when your body is caving in on itself. It fires you up, drains you faster but at least he’ll be able to stand upright and face the other like a man.    
  
“ _ you..  _ “ 

He takes a deep breath but nothing seems to quell the building rage inside of him. Arthur morgan was not a man easily angered, not like this. Not to the people he held dear. Sure he’d kick the life out of a random asshole on the streets of saint-denis, and he’d killed more people than he could remember. But he was not a man who would raise his hand to someone close. Not ever.    
However, his everlasting patience was wearing thin.    
  
“ you.. _ Fucking bastard. _ . You just left us there to  _ die! _ “    
“  _ Arthur.. _ “    
  
“ Don’t you _ ‘arthur’  _ me! You have lost all right to pretend you’re anything better than any of them bastards! You left us.  _ You left me! _ All them years i followed you, trusted you, backed you up. You just threw it away! “    
  
He spits the words as they come, and his voice is layered with the venom of betrayal and the pain of being left behind, it cracks with the weight of his emotion, but arthur ignores it.    
Dutch, stands still as stone, his expression he cannot make out. Whether he is about to get shot or not, arthur doesn’t know. But his days of holding back are over.    
No more.    
  
“ Loyalty.. **_Loyalty_ ** .. Always fucking loyalty. But when it got tough what did you do huh?! You fucking left us.. Like we were nothin’.. Where was your  _ loyalty _ to us Dutch?! “    
  
“ Arthur please.. “    
  
“ Don’t you fuckin’  _ dare- _ “    
Another coughing fit interrupts him, Arthur doubles over, clutching his chest with his fists. He wanted to say so much more. Oh so much more. But the lack of air in his lungs sends him spiraling back down to the floor, wobbling and shaking like a leaf.    
This time he can’t prevent dutch from grabbing a hold of him. A strong arm wraps around his waist. And he is guided back to the bed in the corner of the cabin.    
  
He wants to shout, scream, throw his fists at dutch’s face until the anger stops pounding in his head, until the world makes sense again. Until all the hurt and the death that surrounds them stops haunting him. Until the faces of the ones who’d fallen stop appearing in his nightmares, a constant reminder of his failings. His wrongdoings.    
Instead, he is laid down, still coughing and his chest burning with a different kind of fire.    
Dutch’s hands are gentle on his shoulders as he tries to hold Arthur down, and he hates him for it. Hates him for being gentle when what he needs is anger. He needs dutch to be unreasonable like he has been. Needs to have him scream back so that he has an excuse to fall apart and lose himself in it all.    
  
The coughing subsides slowly. All the while dutch is there, helping him, guiding a cup of steaming tea to his lips so that he can drink. It’s bitter. And he wants to refuse. But it’d be stupid to deny himself the salve that soothes the pain he’s in. even if it is coming from the man he wants to tear apart.    
  
“ you need to take it easy there..  _ Son _ .. “    
  
“ _ i ain’t your son no more.. _ “    
  
Dutch’s hand pulls away slowly, and places the cup of medicine onto the worn bedside table. Now that they’re closer, he can finally see his face more clearly. And where he expected anger and defiance, he finds only sadness and a faint sense of despair.    
  
“ That you have made..  _ Quite clear. _ . “    
Dutch’s voice is muted, soft, a whisper where there used to be a thundering ocean of crashing waves. From his face to his heart, this is a changed man. Arthur can see it now, clear as day. The veil has been lifted from his eyes. Dutch is a lost man, and he probably always has been. A lost man pretending to know the way.    
  
Then why does it still hurt to see him like this? He should know better than to trust his foolish heart. Why would dutch be tending to him like he was some weak child with a scrape on his knee. Why was he wasting medicine on a dying man?    
  
Questions. Questions that needed answering. But his anger was in the way of it all.   
“ Good.. So we know how it is now then. You owe me some god damn answers, dutch van der linde.. “    
  
“ And you will get them in due time.. Arthur. “    
  
“ No.  _ Now _ . i want them  _ now _ . No more running. No more hiding’ “    
  
“ You’re ill arthur. You need to rest. “    
  
“ I’ll rest when i’m fuckin’ dead. Now fess up before i make you. “    
  
It was an empty threat. He was in no state to handle things, let alone to go toe to toe with someone that was, in comparison, in much better health than himself.    
The mention of death seems to make dutch go still again, he tenses, his body turning to ice slowly as he sits down on the edge of the bed. Like a father would when tucking their child to sleep.    
  
But he aint no child no more. That was a long time ago.   
Something seems off about it all, but arthur stares at dutch intently waiting for him to start talking. With arthur’s gaze so vehemently burning into his skin dutch finally opens his mouth.    
  
“ What.. what do you want to know.. Then.. “    
  
That was a change of pace he hadn’t expected. He was ill, but that didn’t stop arthur from cutting through the bullshit and getting his answers he so desired.    
“ where the fuck am i.. And how the hell did i get here. “    
  
“ We’re up north “    
“ North? How far? “    
  
“ pretty far.. I’d say we’re close to the border by now. “    
  
“ _Canada?_ “    
  
“ Is there another north i don’t know about? “    
  
The hint of exasperation in dutch’s voice didn’t go unnoticed. Arthur propped himself up again, staring still, eyes fixed on dutch’s face. He was still angry, and acting like this wasn’t going to make things easier. For the first time in his life arthur knew he had every right to be this way, and he wasn’t going to let dutch van der linde weasel his way out with his act.    
  
“ Yeah i got that smart ass.. How the hell did i get here. Did your friend micah drag me up here with you? Hm? Or how about cleet. Y’all seemed to get along _ just fine _ when i last saw you “    
  
“ No arthur. They aren’t with me. “    
  
“ Then where are they? I have some shit to settle with them bastards. “    
  
“ Hopefully they’re six feet under by now, or at least they’re close to it. “    
  
“ What do you mean?..”    
  
Dutch gave a soft chuckle. But there was no joy behind it, it was sharp, painful almost. Filled with the irony of the situation. He shook his head slowly as he got up from the bed. Needing to support himself on the way up with his hands on his knees.    
  
“ I put a bullet in them. Don’t know if i finished the job or not..but i got them at least. I was too busy with someone else. “    
  
Arthur’s breath momentarily hitched inside his chest, not with a cough, but with something different entirely. Oh what a fool he was, and what a fool’s heart he owned. Even now, after all the shit dutch had pulled on him. On the people he loved.    
  
He was still weak for him.    
  
“ Who were you busy with.. “ he barely manages to force the words out of his mouth, and makes sure to tear his eyes away from dutch’s gaze. Now he’s the one being stared at again.    
  
“ You. arthur. I was trying to keep you alive.. Like you always said… revenge is a luxury we can’t afford. Right? “    



	3. Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ( i'm bad at summaries ) 
> 
> Arthur makes a move to reconnect with the man he secretly loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like it! this ship is giving me a lot of inspiration :D

He rests for what seems like hours, eyes drifting shut and carrying him away to sleep. There’s no pleasant dreams waiting on the other side. Just endless nothing and vague visions of past and present melting together.    
When he wakes, it’s to the sound of a knife, slicing through flesh. And for a second he fears to see dutch stabbing him in the heart when he opens his eyes.    
Luckily, his paranoid and tired brain was wrong.    
  
He coughs softly and turns his head to the side, watching as dutch’s knife slices through the tendons of a fresh rabbit. He’d wondered where the man had gone after their short talk, now he knew. Arthur’s bow and arrow hung by the door, along with his other belongings. His satchel.. His guns. Everything that his so called saviour managed to grab before dragging him away to safety.    
  
“ Did I pass out again? “    
  
Dutch doesn’t turn, but gives a curt nod, as he dumps the ingredients for a basic stew into the cooking pot, carrots, potatoes, and some unidentifiable greens.    
“ Yes you have. “    
  
“ How long? “ 

  
“ About half a day. I told you, you need rest still. “    
  
Arthur can’t help but choke out a wry laugh. Rest. It was strange to have dutch dote on him like this. Telling him what he needed. Pretending to care, or really caring. Arthur wasn’t sure no more.    
  
“ Doctor said I was dyin’.. So what’s changed? You got magical healing powers all of a sudden?” 

“ Don’t be ridiculous Arthur. Of Course not. “    
  
Dutch’s fingers wrapped around a half-empty bottle of cooking oil and the other picked up the pot, dumping a fair amount into it before hanging it above the hearth, it was just big enough to fit one in there, with some careful shoving and wriggling.    
Immediately the smell of food began to waft his way, and Arthur could feel his empty stomach clenching and groaning.    
  
“ Why ain't I dead then? “    
  
Dutch stirs the pot slowly, eyes not tearing away from it, he needs to make sure it doesn’t burn. This is all they have to eat for now. And catching anything in the thick snow is almost impossible.    
“ Because someone out there owed me a lot of favours.. “ he mumbles, kneeling by the fire and adding water from a stone vase as needed. until the brew is bubbling and safe enough to leave cooking on its own. from his pocket, he pulls a cigar and lights it with the quick flick of his wrist and the help of a match.   
  
The flame lights up his face, for a mere second. But it’s enough for arthur to see how tired and drained dutch looks. Then the flame disappears, and is replaced with curling, white smoke, that swirls up into the air and fills the room with the smell of fine aged tobacco.    
  
Arthur sits up, swings his legs over the edge and leans on his knees. He’s too weak to stand, but he’s never been a man who likes to lay around and do nothing for ages. The memory of uncle sleeping in the midday sun, not a care in the world, creeped back into his mind.    
Despite their arguments, he hoped the old fool got out safe with the rest of them.    
  
“ Who might this feller be then? “    
  
“ An old friend from long ago, I did some things he asked me to do. And he owed me for them. He’s a doctor you see, but quite the experimental one. “    
  
“ And he fixed me up? “    
  
“ Yes, he did. Gave me a bunch of his new medicine to make sure you made it. Don’t know what’s in the stuff but it sure calmed down the cough you had  _ quite _ a bit. “    
  


Arthur stares at him, Gaze locked on black curls that fall down dutch’s shoulders. There’s a strange sense of an impasse between them now. His anger still remains, clawing and swirling in his guts, trying to show it’s ugly face with every word he speaks. He can barely manage to keep it locked inside.    
Dutch seems to sense Arthur's burning stare and rises to his feet. Letting the fire lap away at their meal. And letting his attention drift back to the cowboy, sitting down in the chair closest to the bed.    
  
“ Is there anything else you wish to know, Arthur? “    
  
This has to be a trap. This has to be fake. Dutch went from reasonable to a madman, and now he went all the way back around to being himself again? Arthur had trouble wrapping his head around the many transformations that were offered up to him. The many changing faces of dutch was hard to keep up with. Even for someone who was used to the shifting ground underneath his feet.    
  
“ Why? “    
  
“ Why what? “    
Dutch inhales, cigar dangling from his lips and his gaze fixed onto Arthur's. Unwavering, Arthur can’t pull away. He was never able to resist that look.    
  
“ Why save me? Why did you even _ bother _ dragging me off that mountain? After all that bullshit, after siding with Micah over me and John. Did you decide you needed me again last minute? “    
  
“ I... “    
  
There it was again. A speechless man where there was supposed to be a sly fox. Dutch’s gaze finally breaks, and his mind seems occupied with something else entirely. As if he’s forgotten that he’s speaking to Arthur. Like he’s somewhere else, somewhere miles away. Drifting on a cloud of his own haze.    
  
“  _ Dutch. _ “    
  
“ Yes? “    
  
He snaps back to reality and shifts in the chair. Another drag from the cigar follows. And Arthur hates that the smell of the familiar brand somehow makes him calm again. It quiets the fire inside, allows him to think. Allows his mind to flood with memories of the two of them, late at night. The taste of whiskey on his tongue and that smoke in the air. Of gentle laughter and dreams too large for their minds. Stolen glances and lingering touches that faded after enough liquor had entered into their systems.   
  
“ Why? “    
  
His voice rasps, he can barely recognize it now, with how rough it sounds.    
“ Why did you try to save me, Dutch. “    
  
“ Do I need a reason, Arthur? “    
  
“ With the way you been acting lately. Yes, I think you do. “    
  
“ Fair point. “    
  
Dutch seems to take his loss in this fight and lets out a sigh, a cloud of smoke escaping from between his lips, and wafting over towards arthur.    
He plays with the cigar absentmindedly, but Arthur can see the twitch of his eye, and the slight turn of his head. It’s useless to lie now, he’s been playing poker with this man long enough to know his tells.    
  
“ I.. I don't know what to say.. Not really. Considering how I’ve been as of late.. “    
  
Arthur leans forward slightly, gaze fixed on dutch’s face, steeling himself for whatever is about to roll from the silver tongue seated opposite of him.    
  
“ I.. didn’t want you to die Arthur.  _ Never did, _ I couldn't leave you like that so. I picked you up, put you in a cart and rode away as fast as I could. “    
  
Another nervous inhale, the glowing tip of the cigar lighting up and burning away at least an inch before reaching the end of it, dutch presses it down into the ashtray with enough force to squash the thing into a tiny miserable pile of spent ashes.    
  
Arthur however, not pleased with this answer, scoffs.    
“ So.. after all that.. Posturin’.. Bullshittin’.. You want me to believe that on your word? “    
  
“ I have no other answer for you Arthur, so yes, i  _ hope _ you will “    
  
“ See dutch, the problem is just that. Your _words_ don’t mean much to me anymore. Thanks to yourself. “    
  
Their gazes lock, he can see what he assumes is pain flicker over dutch’s features, but the moment of silence doesn’t last long enough for him to poke further. Dutch stands, and paces over to the cooking pot again. He’s nervous, Arthur notes, used to observing the way the other's movements were paced and measured. This was new, this was strange.    
  
“ You ain't gonna defend yourself? “

  
“ There’s nothing to defend  _ arthur. _ . My actions have been abhorrent and my behaviour stranger than ever. Even I can not weasel my way out of this one. “   
Dutch’s voice is laden with exhaustion, like he doesn’t have the fight in him anymore to deny the truth.    
  
Arthur cannot help the chuckle that escapes him, it’s a small one, but it’s something. Baffled as he watches the once greatest liar in America blatantly admit that Arthur was right. _ He was right. _ Finally. Something settles inside of him, perhaps it’s the weight of finally being heard but whatever it is, it sinks into his stomach like a stone and stays there.    
With his winning streak in his pocket he decides to push further, to prevent the silence from falling between them again. But before he can open his mouth dutch lets out a sigh of his own, kneeling down by the fire, His eyes are fixated on the orange flames, watching as they dance and weave their way up into the air.    
  
“ I’m sorry arthur.. “    
  
That’s enough to stop the cowboy right in his tracks, his jaw slightly hanging loose.    
_ Did I hear that right?  _ _   
_ It takes a minute before he finds his voice again, eyes darting from the back of the cabin, to the front, and back to dutch.    
  
“ What.. “    
  
“ I’m sorry “    
  
The words fill his head until it’s all he can hear. An apology, whispered into the fire, thrumming inside his head. The one thing he longed to hear, the one thing he wanted so dearly not too long ago. But now that it’s given, he doesn’t know what to do with it. The irony is stifling. Arthur nods, but he can’t find the words to respond, not now. He doesn’t trust his voice any longer.    
Dutch, doesn’t seem to be expecting an answer either, which makes it easier to just fall back into old habits.    
  
They eat in silence, Dutch hands him a plate of stew and disappears into the back corner of the small cabin with his own in hand. It tastes fine, but his mind is occupied with their conversation, he barely notices how quickly he scarfs it down. Night is falling outside, the sunlight only barely making it through the snow covered windows.    
  
By the time he retires for bed, hours have passed. He curls up on the end of the bed that’s pressed into the wall, tucked into thick furs that gently brush against his skin as he moves.    
But despite feeling the call of sleep pull on every fibre of his being. His eyes keep drifting to the other side of the room.    
  
Dutch is sitting on the wooden floor, his arms locked in a tight embrace around himself, shivering with only his clothes to keep him warm.    


  
  
_ God damn it all.. I’ve always been a foolish man.  _

_   
_ _   
_ “ Hey.. “ he grumbles, half-buried underneath the covers. “ You’re gonna freeze to death like that.. Idiot. “   
  
  
Dutch seems startled by the sudden influx of conversation, and a sound other than his own thoughts, that he was drowned in moments ago.    
  
“ You need not worry _ about me _ “    
  
“ Well.. _I worry_. I’ll starve to death if you die. So get in. “    
  
With the gentle flick of his arm, he shoves the covers to the side, just enough to invite the man to share in the warmth. The bed is large enough to keep a good distance between them both, just enough… barely enough..  _   
_

  
_ Fucking idiot.  _

_   
_   
Dutch stares at him, slack-jawed, confusion all that he can express with his features as he lets the offer sink into his consciousness.    
It wasn’t uncommon for men to share a bed in dire need. Outlaws or not. But with all the events that transpired between them, all the horrible things he’d done.. He’d never expected Arthur to extend any sort of kindness towards him.    
  
This… was unexpected.    
  
But not unwanted.    
  
Slowly he rises to his feet, groaning as his old knees protest under the weight.    
“ Are you.. Sure about that? “    
  
“  _ Just get the hell in before I change my mind.. Bastard.. _ “    
  
Dutch does as he’s told, shedding his outer layers until he’s in his pants and shirt, and sliding between the warm furs and cotton sheets, audibly letting out a sigh of relief as the warmth envelopes his cold and tired body.    
  
“ Thank you.. Arthur. “    
  
“ Don’t make me regret it. “    
He grumbles, as he turns his back to him. And closes his eyes. Allowing himself to drift off to sleep feeling strangely more at ease than he has in a long time.    
  
  


  
“ _ I won’t.. I promise..  _ “ 


	4. Heartache and Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur never liked being dependant. It always made him feel worse.   
> except for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( i still suck at summaries, sorry. pls read and comment! hope you like it! )

When he wakes there’s a distinct lack of warmth next to him, and as he turns onto his back he notices why. Dutch is not there, the bed is made and there’s a change of clean clothes on the chair next to the bed. Presumably, they’re for him.    
Today he feels better than he has in a long time, but whether that’s because his illness is slowly healing, or because dutch seems to have his sanity back somewhat, he doesn’t know. And right now he is too conflicted to try and find out why his heart is fluttering in his chest again. Like he’s some lovesick teen, too stupid for his own good.    
  
However, the smell of his own sweat is starting to become rather putrid. Even for a weathered traveler like himself.    
“ God damn.. I need a bath.. “    
it’s rather obvious his clothes haven’t been changed in a long time. Counting by the stains and dried blood splattered on the fabric he’s wearing.    
  
The door to the cabin opens right as he swings his legs over the edge again. It’s dutch, he doesn’t need to look to make sure. He’d recognize that stride anywhere.    
“ Goodmorning Arthur, how are you feeling? “ comes the rather pleased murmur from his companion, as he goes about unpacking what seems to be provisions from a general store onto the counters.    
  
“ Like something ate me and shat me out. But i’m breathing, and that’s more than i can ask for really “    
  
“ Always so positive arthur, good to hear you’re getting back to your old self. “    
  
“ You know me, always mister sunshine. “    
  
Dutch huffs softly, it reminds him of a laugh, but it’s not quite there yet.    
“ Where you been? “    
  
“ There’s a town not too far from here, i rode down to get some food since you’re seemingly not in any immediate danger. I didn’t want to leave you here alone for too long. “    
  
“ Ah.. “    
  
“ What? “    
  
“ Nothin’.. Nothin’.. “    
  
  


Arthur can feel the fluttering in his chest swell up again, and he decisively pushes it down into his core. Not now. Not here. Not with him.    
As he makes a move to stand, dutch’s gaze finds him. Looking rather concerned.    
“ Are you sure you’re up for a walk? “    
  
“ Won’t know unless i try “    
His hands find the counter top, he holds on tightly as he tries desperately to move his legs forward. But they don’t respond. And it’s one of the most stressful things he’s ever experienced.    
  
“ Hold on there arthur.. “    
Dutch’s coat gets thrown onto the bed and a strong arm wraps around his middle. Right where it’s needed, right where he wobbles and becomes unstable.    
Arthur’s first impulse is to shove dutch away, to keep him at an arm's length. To pretend he doesn’t need help.    
  
But he does. And he’d be stupid not to accept it.    
  
“ I.. I just.. “    
  
“ I know arthur.. “    
  
“ Why won’t they move? “    
  
“ Because you’ve been in bed for a while son. “    
Dutch seems to want to correct himself, but it’s out before he can help himself. All he can do is roll with the flow of the conversation and hope he doesn’t piss arthur off even more.    
“ Your strength will come back to you, that I know. That I promise you. “    
  
“ You sure about that? “    
  
“ As sure as anyone can be, yes. You’re still young. You’ll be fine arthur. “    
  
“ I ain't that young anymore.. “    
  
Arthur’s arm rests on dutch’s shoulder, finding strength there that he desperately needed. When he feels like he’s able to move he nods.    
“ Where do you want to go? “    
  
“ Bath.. if i can.. “    
  
“ Oh… “    
  
Dutch begins to move, guiding arthur from the bed towards the middle of the cabin. There’s a door there that leads to the back, one that has been closed until now. He opens it with one hand, focusing on the weight in his arms. The feeling of arthur against his skin. He knows he shouldn’t let it creep it’s way into his head but he can’t fight it. Not with arthur this close.    
“ C’mon..there’s a tub in the back there. “ he mutters, and they move in tandem down the hall, arthur can feel his legs throbbing, and he’s relieved when he gets to sit down on the edge of the tub when they finally reach it.    
  
Who knew a short walk could be this exhausting.    
  
“ i smell like a goddamn barn.. “    
  
“ It ain’t that bad.. “    
  
“ Is your nose working? Or have you lost the ability to smell bullshit? “    
  
“  _ Very funny arthur. _ “ dutch’s sarcasm breaks through and it’s familiar and just the way he remembered it. He watches patiently as dutch begins to fill up the tub with water. It’s a slow process and one that needs to be done right. He doesn’t want to cook alive, nor does he want to be freezing his ass off.    
It’s a lot of back and forth with buckets of water. When it’s finally filled to the brim arthur can feel himself growing tired already. And he knows he won’t have the strength to completely take care of everything himself.    
  
He doesn’t want to ask dutch for help. Not with this. So he begins to clumsily peel the dirty clothes from his body, obviously struggling to do everything smoothly.    
He never pretended to not be as stubborn as a mule. And dutch watches for a few moments, before sighing and reaching out to help untangle arthur from the mess of sleeves and cloth.    
  
“ Let me help.. “    
  
“ I ain’t.. I don’t want.. “    
  
“ Shush now boy, there’s nothing undignified about helping someone. Nor being helped. Now stop that whimpering and let me do what needs to be done. “   
  
There was a protest, but it died with dutch’s swift words. Unable to come up with any other reasons besides the embarrassment of having to be bathed by his former leader and teacher, Arthur grunted softly and gave up.    
He didn’t want dutch to see him like this, exposed, bare. Years he’d spent fantasizing about a moment not much unlike this one, drawing his unclean thoughts in the pages of his worn journal and cherishing them like a reverend would his bible.    
  
It felt wrong somehow, so different from what he imagined it might have been when he was younger. Before everything got fucked up. Before dutch changed.    
  
“ Fine.. “    
He shrugged his shoulders, there was no stopping it now. He needed to be washed and it needed to be done fast, preferably before the next thaw.    
  
He pretended not to be affected when dutch’s strong hands slowly began to undress him, it was difficult to be this close to him, after all this time. All those long years of wanting more and having to settle for second best.    
Dutch was professional, almost calm about it. At least he seemed that way, composure had always been one of his strong suits.    
His undergarments fell to the ground and then he was naked like the day he was born, he thanked his lucky stars that his caretaker had the decency not to stare at him as he was helped into the tub in silence. It was deafening, so loud that it made his vision spin, that he could hear his own heartbeat beating away like a drum in his ears.    
  
“ If you need me, just holler. I’ll be right outside. “    
Dutch patted his shoulder gently, turning on his heels towards the door. It clicked back into place. And then he was alone, finally.    
  
_ Jesus fucking christ..  _ _   
_ _   
_ Time to reflect. It wasn’t something he was often graced with.    
Arthur sunk into the tub until his nostrils barely hovered above the water line, visibly relaxing every tired muscle as he was enveloped by the warmth of the bathwater.    
His breathing slowed. And finally he could be alone with his thoughts.    
  
_ So your saviour is the man you fell in love with when you were just a kid.  _ _   
_ _ Great.  _ _   
_   
It doesn’t help that his infatuation with dutch never really ceased. It lingered into adulthood. Bringing along with it some mighty conflicting emotions, and a shit load of trouble as he took his frustrations out on everyone around him. It’s all he ever really wanted. The only thing that always came back to bite him. Mary.. bless her heart, he would have loved her if he could. But his soul was tied to dutch in more ways than one, and no matter how hard he fought it, he always found his way back to him.    
  
There was a creeping little voice inside his head, crawling into the back of his mind.    
  
_ You could just.. Start over.  _ _   
_ _ You’re here now. With him.  _ _   
_ _ All you have to do is take what is given to you.  _ _   
_ _   
_ Options were spread thin. And Arthur was torn between his loyalty to his family, his gang, and the warm promise of something else entirely. A life away from everything. Just him and dutch and no one else.    
  
_ How do I even know he wants that?  _ _   
_ _ He ain't interested in me that way.. Surely.. Surely it’s all just.. Make believe..  _ _   
_ _   
_ Time ticks away slowly and his thoughts are just as much a mess as they were before. He begins the painful task of washing himself. Scrubbing the dirt and dried blood from his limbs and chest.    
It leaves the water darker than before, tinged red with blood by the time he’s done. But it helps to feel cleaner and for a moment he can feel like he’s in control again. Like his life isn’t spiraling more out of balance with every passing second. 

_   
_ _ You could live happily. Isn’t that what they all wanted?  _ _   
_ _ You could be like John. He made it out. Has a family and everything.  _ _   
_ _ Stop lying to yourself and admit this is what you wanted all along.  _   
  
Arthur sighs deeply, rubbing his temples as he feels another headache start to make itself known. On second thought, being alone with his thoughts was fucking awful. He raises himself onto the edge of the bath, clutching it with all the strength he has left.    
He should ask for help, he knows that. But he doesn’t want to be nude when dutch comes back again. At least some of his dignity can be reserved.    
  
He stumbles over to the wash basin, there’s a large cloth laying on the edge, he wraps it around his waist and knots it.    
  
“ Dutch? “    
  
It takes mere seconds before heavy boots make their way down the hall, the door opens and dutch steps inside. A towel in hand. He chuckles softly as he notices the cloth around Arthur's waist.    
  
“ Don’t you laugh at me “    
  
“ I ain’t laughing arthur “    
  
“ Then what’s the smile for “    
  
“ No reason.. I swear “    
  
Dutch smirks and raises his hands in defeat, before walking over and sitting arthur down on the stool next to the wash basin. Without asking, he begins to dry him off, starting at the feet and working his way up.    
  
“ You don’t have to “    
  
“ Whether I have to or not. I want to. “    
  
“ You  _ want _ to dry me off? “    
  
“ I  _ want _ to help you “ 

  
Arthur sighs, and his fingers wrap around dutch’s wrist, stopping it dead in its tracks as it travels up to his thigh.    
  
“ _ Why _ “    
  
It's the one question that keeps coming back. The one that keeps the air tense between them. Dutch goes awfully silent, but to Arthur's surprise he doesn’t pull his arm away from the grip. He allows it to remain there, towel still clutched between his fingers.    
moments of silence pass and dutch’s breathing hitches inside his throat, arthur can hear it from where he’s sitting. But he never would have believed it unless he saw it with his own two eyes.    
Something snaps inside of the man across from him, breaks like ice that’s just spread _ too thin. _ Like pain that has been lingering for far too long. All the strength that once resided in him seems to finally ebb away until there’s nothing more than truth. He has no more energy for lies.    
  
Dutch finally meets his gaze and arthur freezes,    
There’s tears.    
  
He is crying.    
  
“ Because.. I.. I owe you everything and i.. “    
  
“ _ Dutch.. _ “    
Arthur tries to stop him. He knows where this is going, he knows that the words that follow will make or break them both. And he’s not ready, he’s not ready for anything of this size, this weight. It’s too much.    
Dutch shakes his head. He’s tired, so very tired, and he needs to say what’s been weighing on his heart for longer than he can remember.    
  
“ Because  _ I love you _ .. Arthur. More than anything or anyone in this goddamn world..”    
  
Every fibre in his being was screaming at him, all at once. As dutch’s words echoed against the bathroom walls and settled in the air. They were done for now, truly and utterly lost. Yet with the promise of more on his mind, he couldn’t stop himself any longer.    
His hands moved on their own, slowly, gently, they unfurled themselves against dutch’s face, cupping it in his palms, and tilting his face upwards. Taking in every detail, every wrinkle, every hair. Every bruise and scar.    
  
“ You… better not be joking.. “ he grunts, straining against the emotions that are welling up inside his chest.    
  
“ I ain’t joking arthur.. “    
Comes the gentle sound of dutch’s voice.    
  
His thumb carefully wipes at the stream of tears rolling down the stubbled skin, surely he was dreaming. He had to be.    
Even if he was. Even if this all was nothing more than lost hopes and painful memories. Arthur no longer cared.    
A smile spreads across his features, one of those small intimate ones reserved only for the gentlest of moments, And it was contagious, dutch’s smile matching his own. And for a moment, all their troubles seem like distant nightmares, faded pages of a journal. And nothing more than that.    
  
“ Oh Dutch.. “    
  
“ I never said I was a smart man, Arthur morgan.. I’ve always been a fool and you are a fool for following me. “    
  
Their foreheads touch, he can feel the warmth against his skin. And it’s unreal, so much better than anything he’d hoped.    
  
“ Then let’s be foolish together.. “    
  
“ With you? Always.. Arthur.. “    



	5. Faith and the Faded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dutch reveals some memories he'd yet to share with Arthur.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! this corona covid pandemic has me a little anxious and writing was a bit harder than usual <3   
> hope everyone likes it! 
> 
> THE GREAT MIASMAT MADE FANART FOR THIS FIC AND I'M SO HAPPY ( and honored )   
> please go check them out! 
> 
> Fanart : https://twitter.com/miasmat_/status/1249341725019168769
> 
> thank you so much <333333

Days begin to blend together into weeks as they settle into a well-balanced routine. Arthur begins to gain the strength in his limbs again, taking daily walks and even managing to make it outside without falling.    
The air is crisp and vibrant, it's still cold, nipping at his skin as it whips around him. But it's softer than before, more forgiving. And the sunlight seems to filter through the clouds just a little more each day.    
Dutch seems better too, after their heart to heart. More stable, and his eyes betray the hidden happiness that they both feel.    
  
“ You sure you can handle it? “ he asks, a hand slowly pressing against the small of Arthur's back. A reassuring promise of catching him should he trip and fall.    
“ I'll know once I try.. “    
  
“ Alright then Arthur. “    
  
Dutch opens the door for him and he takes two very carefully placed steps outside. With some combined effort they managed to bundle him into some warm clothes. His boots sink slightly into the melting snow, that’s turned more into slush than the crackling white it’d been weeks before. But he stands, and he doesn’t waver.    
  
“ You know.. I could just go by myself. “    
“ I know dutch.. But I'm tired of being locked inside, I want to be out there.. It’ll do me good. Trust me. “    
  
Dutch still seems to doubt, but he keeps his words to himself and closes the door behind them. It’s the first time he gets to be further from their cabin than he’s been able to. And the recent thaw means their trip to the town close by should be a lot easier now.    
“ Alright then, my stubborn friend..” his mentor grumbles. “ This way.. The count is over here. “    
  
There’s a small stable setup near the cabin, it’s tiny with only enough space to house one or two horses. The count is thin, lacking the usual abundance of food he’s used to, But he’s still strong, just like his rider.   
The beast seems happy to spot a familiar face, and lets out a cheerful whinny as dutch enters his little enclosure.    
“ I'll have to share a saddle with you son, I hope you don’t mind. “ 

Arthur chuckles and shakes his head, he doesn’t mind being pressed up against dutch. Never did and now there’s only the added relief that he doesn’t need to hide it anymore. That development would take some getting used to after a whole life of practising hiding and pretending it did nothing to him to be that close. To have that connection.    
“ I don’t mind dutch, now go on. “    
  
“ Alright alright.. No need to get all snappy with me. “    
  
He opens the stable door and leads his horse through it. Arthur watches as dutch swings his leg over the back with ease and takes the offered hand that pulls him up to settle behind him.    
It feels good being out again, to sit on a horse again. All this time he hadn’t been able to feel like himself, but it was finally coming back to him. Slowly, but surely.    
  
Without the deep snow to cover the landscape it’s much easier to traverse the mountain path downwards. Where before he’d been unable to see where he was going there was now earth to guide him. All around them flowers and plants were beginning to sprout new green leaves, life breathing back into the trees day by day.    
It’s strange, how different the world looks after almost dying. The colours are that much more vibrant, the details catch his eye. Everything else seems unimportant, maybe this is how things ought to be.    
He snakes his arms around dutch’s waist just a little tighter as they begin to ride downhill.    
  
“ How did you even find this place? “ he asked to the silent air around them and dutch hums softly. Knowing this question would come to find him eventually.    
  
“ I.. i didn’t find it by accident.”    
  
“ You.. what? “    
  
Arthur perked up. He’d never heard about this cabin, not even once in the many years that they’d been together.    
  
“ It's.. mine. “    
  
“ You had a cabin all this time? Why didn’t you tell us? “    
  
“ I never thought I'd need to use it. It was insurance, a backup plan to make sure I’d have somewhere to hide out in if everything went to shit. “    
  
Somehow Arthur didn’t feel satisfied by that answer. His brow furrowed. Dutch was not the kind to keep something like this completely secret. Not from him and Hosea at least, or so he thought. But with everything that had happened between them he didn’t think it was impossible either. Even if he had, it didn’t sound much like a plan at all. Dutch was a man who thrived on being around others. A cabin alone in the woods somewhere.. No.. he couldn’t see the man he knew having this as a backup plan. To wither away alone in the wilderness.    
  
“ And that’s it? You just have a cabin for backup? That’s the whole story? “    
  
Dutch’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t exactly fight back. The question made him uncomfortable. Perhaps he needed to feel uncomfortable, to face the truth.   
Lies had brought them nothing but pain. Arthur gave him a chance to rebuild what he’d broken, he couldn’t throw that away because of Discomfort.    
The man sighed, spurring the count forward.    
“ Later arthur.. Not now. Please? “    
  
“ Whatever you say dutch.. “    
  
The rest of the ride was done so in silence. Not because they were uncomfortable with each other, but rather the fact that their minds were occupied. After spending more than twenty years together, one tends to get to know the other’s signs. Arthur could see dutch didn’t want to speak, not here, out in the open. So he let his gaze enjoy the sights of the nature all around them. Slowly changing as the signs of people’s presence became all the more defined and noticeable. Chopped trees. Roads in the distance. A ranch that seemed to be doing quite well, tucked away into the hillside. 

  
“ We’re almost there “    
It’s dutch’s voice that breaks him out of his trance, snaps him back to reality. And as he peeks over dutch’s shoulder he can see the outline of the little town that marks their destination. It’s small, with only a few shops and homes. Nothing too large, even valentine was larger than this.    
It’s just right to stay hidden, a place far away from any major hot spots. And as he looks around he can’t even spot a sheriff's office. Which only comes as a relief to them both, seeing as how their faces are plastered all across the country with a large bounty on their heads.    
  
“ Nice and quiet “    
  
“ Just how we like it, right son? “    
  
The familiarity strikes him right in the chest. How many towns like this had they robbed in the last decade? He’d honestly lost count. The way they found their targets was a dance with fate, always moving steps forward and steps back. Hopefully though, this time dutch would actually keep a low profile.    
  
“ The general store is over there, charming feller. There’s a stable up ahead too, you should get yourself a horse. “    
  
“ Can we afford that? “    
  
Dutch huffs out a small laugh as he slinks off the saddle and into the mud below their feet, their eyes meet for a mere few seconds. But the older and usually wiser man gives him a wink, before tying the reins to the nearest hitching post.   
  
“ Yes Arthur. We can. “    
  
That does enough to spark his interest, and Arthur waits for a more detailed explanation.    
It was clear that Dutch knew something that he did not. Where the proceeds of their heist had gone was all a mystery to him. John and his family were, at the time, all he focused on. Getting them out safely went above the gold and stacks of cash that they’d hidden in the beaver hollow cave.    
  
“ You.. Managed to get some with you? “    
  
“ I did yes, despite all the trouble it gave us. Quite a lot, enough for us both to supply ourselves for a long time. “    
  
Arthur shook his head slowly, how dutch managed to escape the Pinkertons after leaving john and him to fend for themselves, and still managed to get the money out safely. He had no idea. But those thoughts were quickly pushed down into his gut as a hand wrapped around his own. Tightly, their fingers intertwined as dutch brings his knuckles to his lips and quickly pecks the skin. It’s chaste, and it’s over before he realizes that it happened.    
  
“ I.. You mean more to me than any of that.. I’d throw it all away if you wanted me to. “    
  
“ I know that dutch.. “    
  
“ I just wanted to make sure you do. After what I've done I can imagine your.. Distrust. On that matter. “    
Arthur pulls his jacket tighter around himself, giving a quick nod to make sure dutch knew he understood. Before being handed a small leather pouch, one he quickly shoves into his pocket.    
  
“ I'll take the general store, you get yourself a ride. “    
“ Aye aye sir.. “    
  
He feigned a salute, before trudging off towards the stables. His thoughts occupied with more than just his own troubles. Drifting off towards his brother in arms, wondering if they made it, if they were safe. However, he couldn’t dwell on such things. Their matters now were more pressing, wherever John was, he’d do well to stay out of sight and mind.    
  
“ Good day sir! “ the blacksmith wipes his strong hands on his apron and gives Arthur a welcoming wave. It was a short, stocky kind of man. Clearly living a hard life of hard work. The type that he admired for their determination. “ What can I help you with today? “    
Arthur gave the man a small smile and let his eyes inspect the stable, it wasn’t huge, nothing special. But not overly shabby either. And the horses looked well fed and happy. Just the way they should be.    
  
“ I'm in the market for a horse. Something strong. Something fast. Something that can handle the weather around here. “    
  
“ Why then sir you are in luck! I just got some new ones in the back! Real good horses, loyal too. Go ahead and take a look.”    
  
The blacksmith hadn’t lied. They were all good horses. Strong, durable and fast. But as he neared the back of the stable, in one of the more shaded stalls. His eye caught a special kind of animal.    
Due to the darkness of the horse’s coat he almost disappeared into the shadows of his little enclosure. And the look in his eyes. Feisty, stubborn.    
Arthur always had a liking for the ones who weren’t wanted.    
  
“ What about that one? “ he asked, approaching the stall. Taking a good look at it through the opening of the door.    
  
“ Oh..  _ That one _ .. I wouldn’t advise you to take that one sir. He’s quite the handful. I was going to send him to the butcher next week. “    
As he ran his fingers across the velvety nose, he smiled. It would be a waste to send such a beautiful animal to the butcher to be killed. He could see the will to live inside of it, the determination to keep going. With that so clear, the decision was easily made.    
“ I'll take him. “

  
He got out of the stable with a new horse in tow, a free saddle for taking the troublemaker off the man’s hands. And some supplies for the horse to eat.    
The animal seemed happy to be out of his prison and into the sunlight and fresh mountain air, it was something Arthur could find himself in quite well. He was always attracted to the punished and the deserted, maybe because he himself was among the same kind of crowd.    
“ Yer alright boy.. Don’t you worry. You and I are gonna get along just fine. “    
  
Once they loaded up on supplies, tying the bags onto their saddles, they were back onto the road to the cabin.    
Dutch seemed quiet. More so than on the way there, as if he had gotten lost within his thoughts. Arthur wasn’t too pressed to insert himself into dutch’s mind right now. Though he noticed something seemed to be bothering him.    
By the time they made it back to the cabin, the sun had begun its decline towards the horizon. Severely increasing the cold temperature of the air around them.    
  
They stored the supplies, brushed and hitched the horses. Who seemed to be getting along fine for now. And got back inside. Not quick enough to avoid the snowfall that started back up again.    
However. Even now, dutch wouldn’t speak. And he disappeared into the side room Arthur had yet to lay eyes on without a word.    
  
“ Dutch? “    
  
When no response came. He decided to follow, despite knowing better. Despite feeling that dutch needed space. Space hadn’t done them any good at all. It only served to grow and force them apart. Like roots of a tree forming a wedge between them.    
He wasn’t going to let that happen again. Not now. Not when their feelings for one another had finally been revealed.    


\- 

  
  
“ What are you doin’? “    
The air that hits him as he steps inside smells dead. Like this particular room hasn’t been aired out in years. There’s dust, everywhere. On the floor, on the cabinet. On the windowsill. Arthur slowly lets his sight get used to the relative darkness, when he finally can make out dutch’s silhouette among the shadows.    
  
“ Dutch? “    
  
The man slowly turns, in his hands he has a picture, perfectly arranged into a neat little frame. It’s long from ornate, but it’s obviously been done with a delicate hand.    
On it? A woman. A woman and a man. A man that looks eerily like dutch. Only without the wear and tear of life.    
  
“Arthur... “    
It sounds more like a choked whisper than a plea for comfort. But it draws him in, and he steps inside, joining dutch and trying to make out his expression.    
“ Dutch what’s wrong? Why are you in here? “    
  
“ I- when you asked me, I remembered. I’d forgotten for so long. “    
  
“ What did you forget? “    
  
There was a distinct knot in his stomach that made him feel uneasy, his hand latched onto dutch’s shoulder before noticing what the man was leaning against.    
The frilly cloth, still while and beautifully arranged. Though slightly yellowed at the edges, it’s still beautiful. However, it is not the fabric that shocks him.    
It’s what it covers that makes him take a step back.    
  
A crib stands pressed against the wall. No signs of use anywhere to be found.    
It’s then that dutch begins to speak, as his ringed fingers trace the soft fabric like he’s trying to remember something from long ago. With reverence. With love.    
  
“ This cabin. It wasn’t just mine Arthur. “    
He turns, slowly placing the picture frame next to the crib, onto the cabinet that stands there.    
“ We had a plan. Just a simple one. We would move up here, her and me... We’d be happy here. We’d start a family. We’d live our lives out here, free from the law and all that god awful civilisation. “    
  
“ Annabelle?.. “    
  
“ Yes..Annabelle.”    
  
“ What happened? “    
  
“ You know what happened. Colm killed her. After that i suppose i simply didn’t want to remember. I wanted to forget. So I did. But when i saw you almost dying on that mountain, when i held you in my arms. This was the only place I could go. The only place I had left. “    
  
“ You knew I'd be safe here. “    
  
“ I knew that, yes. Because no one knew where it was except for  _ Hosea and _ .. And me. It was safe, but painful. Because of the memories attached to this place. I never thought I'd actually set foot in it again. But here we are.. “    
  
Silence follows the death of his words, it creeps in like a mist lingering just a little too long after sunrise. But it’s not a wall between them, in fact it is the opposite. It’s trust, knowing that this moment is shared between them and only them. And knowing it must remain like that.    
Arthur feels the pain in his heart of losing the people they’ve lost all the more intensely in that moment, he barely notices when dutch slowly wraps his arms around him and pulls him into an embrace. 

“ _ I miss him..  _ “ 

He chokes out. And hides his face in the crook of dutch’s neck. Seeking the comfort only he can give.    
  
“  _ Me too.. Arthur..” _


	6. Alea iacta est

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brings the romance you've all been waiting for ( I hope )   
> and a promise of more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit shorter than usual.   
> i hope you all like it! it makes me so very happy to read all the replies and see how my writing impacts other people!   
> enjoy!

“So.. what will we do now?“    
His voice echoes softly against the walls of the cabin room. In the middle of it a fire, where dutch is bent over their cooking pot. The amber light of the flames enveloping his skin with warmth, creating a glow around him that only improves upon his sharp features. The light blending with the dark.    
  
It takes a long while for dutch to answer his question out loud. He seems lost in thought again, but it’s different from before. He knows what the question entails, and that his answer will make or break whatever it is that they’re building here.    
Slowly, he rises to his feet and joins Arthur on their shared bed, lighting a smoke and letting the curls of white escape from between his lips.    
  
“ What do you mean.. “    
  
“ You know what i mean. About our family. About john. About that rotten no good snake.. “    
  
Arthur leans back slightly, stretching his tired muscles. Eyes transfixed on dutch and awaiting his answer.    
“ You know we can’t let him get away with all this. “    
Dutch’s fingers tap the end of his cigarette, sending the used ash down to the floor. He knows that for the blood that has been spilled, blood should be paid.    
An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.    
But with it comes the threat of death, looming over them once again. Here they are safe. Hidden away. If they strike in the open, then their safety dies with him.    
  
“ You know the risks. Arthur. We leave here, we show our faces? We’ll have to run for the rest of our lives. To mexico. To canada. Anywhere but here.”    
  
“ We’ve been running for a long time dutch. Ain’t nothing going to change that. “    
  
“ I thought revenge wasn’t worth our time? “    
“ If it means that venom spitting back-stabber gets put in the ground? Then i don’t give a shit. “    
  
Dutch pauses, eyes drifting towards Arthur. All these years they’ve spent together. He wouldn’t mind doing it all over again, even if it ended in tragedy.    
“ I will follow you wherever you want to go Arthur. ” his voice calls softly, barely a whisper in the silence between them. There’s a promise there that Arthur longs for. Has been for a long long time.    
  
“ You.. You mean that? “    
  
“ Of Course i mean that.”    
  
“ Even if it means running for the rest of our lives? We could be happy here. But I can't be happy without knowing that the bastard is dead.”   
  
Dutch slowly turns, pulling one of his legs onto the cot to rest there more comfortably. His smoke hangs forgotten from his fingers, dangling there as a smile spreads across his features. There’s something different about him now. So very different from the man he first saw when he woke up here. There’s an aura of determination that he lacked before, a strength that faded over time, but fought its way back into his being. It is a transformation worth witnessing, and Arthur is blessed to have been there to see it.    
  
“ I’m with you Arthur. ‘Till the end of time. If it means we spend our lives running, then i’ll be running with you. If it means we die, then we die. At least I'll die doing something right, that’s all a man like me can hope for. “    
  
It’s then that Arthur can no longer resist the blooming urge to kiss him. He breaks, and shifts over to him. Reaching for him, begging him for the warmth he’d so long ached for.    
And dutch? Dutch meets him in the middle, his arms wrapping around him and pulling him tightly against his chest when their lips finally meet.    
  
It’s warm and soft and passionate. It’s everything they need and more than that. It’s love, pure and simple and all-encompassing.    
If he’d known kissing him felt this good, he wouldn’t have spent his best years wishing and wanting and hoping. There was regret in them both, for the time they’d wasted. But hope, hope remained, because the time they had left, however short, would be the best years of their life.    
  
“ I love you “ his weathered voice says, as they break away for much-needed air, leaving them both breathless.    
  
“ I love you too... “    
Dutch answers, his lips pressing the words into Arthur's neck. One kiss becomes many and before he realizes it they’re on top of one another, dutch pinning him to the bed, devouring him piece by piece and leaving nothing to the imagination.    
Arthur opens his arms, willingly inviting him closer, his legs spreading as dutch slides between them, taking up the space that has been empty for far too long.    
How could he object? When this is all he’d ever wanted?    
  
His own hands, scarred and marked by life, reverently begin to peel the shirt from his lover’s chest. With every one opened there’s more room to declare his love, he returns the kisses in full. “ you’re beautiful.. “ comes the husky grunt from above. And Arthur smiles.

  
“ So are you “    
  
“ That’s a lie.. “    
  
“ I ain’t a liar.. “    
  
Their clothes end up in a pile on the floor, thrown together in the chaos of two bodies finding their own with each other. Skin against skin, breath against breath, the sounds of love, and passion. Mixing together in a painful display of devotion.    
It’s slow at first, when dutch finally enters him. Slides past his defences and takes him. He’s never been this full before, this complete. He cries out, the pressure is too much at first, but his lover is there. And he’s not alone, dutch catches him and captures him again in a kiss. Giving him the time he needs to adjust.    
  
Then the movement begins, Arthur clings to him. Arms wrapping tight around his neck, needing to hold onto something while dutch’s movements grow ever faster. Hips snapping quickly as they chase their release.    
“ _ Dutch.. Dutch!  _ “ his name is the only thing on his lips. It’s all he can manage to speak as dutch thrusts inside of him, grunting in response.    
  
“ Arthur..  _ Fuck.. Arthur.. _ “    
Dutch buries his face in the soft flesh of Arthur's neck, breathing in the scent of him, his teeth dragging along the skin and marking him. Bruising him. Claiming him.    
All these years of denial. They were bound to come to a boiling point. But not like this, never like this. Yet he wants it, craves it, like a drunkard craves his bottle. Whether this is good for them, he doesn’t know.    
All he knows for certain is that he loves Arthur more than the world loves pain. More than a rich man loves his money. And more than the law loves order. 

They make love like they never have before. By the time they reach their peak they’re both a sweaty mess. Dutch holds him so tightly, almost as if he's afraid Arthur will shatter into dust before his very eyes if he doesn’t.    
Their breathing takes a while to return to normal. Arthur closes his eyes, feels the heartbeat thudding against his skin. And he takes the moment for what it is. Beautiful, Calm and absolutely fulfilling.    
“ That was.. “ he breathes out, the sound of laughter slowly bubbling up and out of his chest. But the rest of his sentence fades away, his mind blurred by the afterglow.    
  
“ Amazing? “ Dutch coos softly, their limbs intertwined and clinging to one another. His head resting gently atop of Arthur's chest. And his mind soothed by the sound of a beating heart that lingers there.    
  
“ More than amazing. I-.. I feel as if I'm whole again. Like.. I've been fractured for so long, but now all the pieces are coming together. “    
  
“ Never knew you were such a romantic, my dear. “    
  
“ I suppose i learned that from you.. “    
  
His own hand slowly travels up dutch’s spine, counting the freckles and moles he encounters along the way. The fire in the fireplace has slowly begun to die out, but the glimmers of orange and red are basking them both in warmth now.    
He passes another freckle. And then a scar. And comes to rest at the base of dutch’s neck, his fingers slowly tangling into long black hair. And dutch’s sigh is all he needs in that moment to know that this is where they are supposed to be.    
  
“ We’re in this together dutch. Ain’t we? “    
  
“ Yes Arthur. We’re in this together. And I wouldn't have it any other way. “    
  
“ Me neither dutch.. Me neither. “    
  


~

  
The hike takes a long long time. His feet are cramping from the exertion as he finally makes it to the top. There’s a tree there, rooted deep into the earth. An oak, from the look of it. Its long winding branches reach upwards into the sky, desperate to catch every bit of sunlight that it can.    
It’s there, in between the roots, that he digs. His fingers carving out the dusty earth until he’s certain it’s deep enough.    
  
“ That’ll do just fine.. “    
  
The wooden box he places inside the hole. Before covering it back up again. It’s almost as if nothing has changed by the time he’s done. Except for the markings of stones that spell out the letter J. it’s small enough to miss if you don’t know what you’re looking for. But he has faith.    
  
Slowly Arthur stands. Dusting his hands off on his jeans as he takes a step back to admire the view.   
It’ll be awhile before he sees this again. The open west. The sprawling landscape that seems to go on forever, unbroken, untamed. He smiles, and turns. Leaving the tree where it stands, and the box where it belongs.    



	7. Brotherhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur's words reach a pair of ears that have missed them dearly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait again, i am still dedicated to this story because i adore it, but it's taking me a bit long to get through the writersblock.   
> hope y'all like it!

It’s high noon when the doors to the post office, adjacent to the train station, swayed open with a creaking sound breaking through the silence. It wasn’t strange to have visitors at this time of day, so the clerk behind the counter barely looked up to see who it was that just stepped inside.    
  
“ Mornin’ feller, what can i help you with? “    
  
“ I’m here to pick up a eh… package. “    
  
“ Under what name sir? “    
  
“ Abigail roberts? “    
  
The clerk finally moved his gaze upwards, staring a little slack jawed at the wandering outlaw infront of him. Dressed in common clothes to hide the fact that he wasn’t a farmer. And failing miserably.    
“ That your name then? “ he chuckled. To which john was quick to frown. A hand dangling near his belt, the other shoved inside his pocket.    
  
“ It’s my wife’s name. “    
  
That was enough to shut the man up. He hastily pulled himself from his seat and hurried towards where the mail was kept under lock and key. But within a minute or two the man returned, already wiping his brow from the exertion of having to walk in this heat.    
“ Ain’t nothing there under that name..” came his response from the door opening.    
  
John ruffled through his pocket and pulled out a pack of smokes, lighting one as he leaned against the counter.    
“ Try … uh.. Try Jim milton. Yeah. that’s my name. “ came the rumble, along with a cloud of smoke. It was just like John to have trouble remembering his own damn name. Or the one abigail said he ought to use anyhow. The clerk had no intention of making any more jokes, outlaws were a dangerous sort, and most of them had a shit sense of humor.    
  
Finally, after some searching, the store owner returned, carrying in his arms a box and on top of it a letter, sealed and a little dusty. It must’ve been there a while. The rest of the transaction went without trouble, as he paid and shoved the letter in his coat.    
  
“ Finally! I thought you’d run off again! “    
  
Abigail was a strong woman. Especially now. After losing their family and having to survive on their own she’d shown him just how wrong he’d been to cast her aside all that time ago. He chuckled, and set the package down at the back of their cart. Next to the milk and produce they’d managed to purchase from their last remaining dollars. It was enough to feed them for a few weeks. But it wouldn’t last.    
  
“ Me? Oh, i wouldn’t dare. I know you’d gut and skin me if i did “    
  
“ You better remember that “    
“ Hard to forget, my sweet. “    
  
She was just as beautiful as the first time he’d seen her, it was hard to imagine being with anyone else at this point.    
Even if she managed to push all of his buttons at times, he wouldn’t trade it for anything else. She kept him straight like an arrow, reminded him of the things that were truly important in life.    
The cart wobbled dangerously as he clambered on board and grabbed a hold of the reins, only to have them yanked out of his hands when he sat down.    
  
“  _ Oh no _ ! You nearly crashed us down the mountain on the way here. I’ll ride, you just keep an eye out. “    
  
John huffed, almost insulted. “ Fine, suit yourself. “    
And just like that, they were back on the road. Hobbling on the dirt, as their old nag barely managed to pull the whole weight of the cart along.    
Something about the letter was awakening his curiosity. Who on earth would send him a letter? Besides abigail and the former people they ran with, no one knew his pseudonym. So, as they rode over the hill and towards the forest where they’d set up camp, he reached into the folds of his clothes and pulled out the letter again.    
“ What’s that? “    
Abigail muttered as she kept her eyes steeled on the road ahead. Not daring to let them stray for a moment.    
“ A letter “    
  
“ Yeah, i can see that, from who? “    
  
“ I don’t know.. Sent it to my name though. “    
  
“ Jim or John? “    
  
“ Jim “    
  
Silence followed, the mystery was making her thoughts race. Trouble was always around the corner with these men, you never knew when your life would be uprooted. Or how. Or where the next gunshots could be coming from.    
His fingers traced the writing on the front. It was awfully familiar. Though from where he knew the style he wasn’t quite sure.    
With the tips of his fingers, worn and calloused from hard work. He pulled the paper apart, and revealed the letter. The weight in the envelope turned out to be a key. Small enough to oversee shouldn’t it have slipped into his palm.    
  
“ Well? Go on then? Read it! “ Abigail sighed, despite everything she was just as excited to know what it said. John frowned, concentrated as his eyes darted over the words and took in the overwhelming feeling of dread they caused. 

  
  
_ Dear Jim.  _ _   
_ _ If you’re reading this, I sincerely hope you are well and unharmed, along with the boy and dearest abby. Writing this ain’t easy. It’s been a long while old friend.  _ _   
_ _ But i’m afraid our meeting has to be put on hold. For now.  _ _   
_ _ Turns out that old Aiden o’Malley still lives. He sends his regards and well meant apologies to you both, for his actions. Along with the promise of making it right between y’all.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ We’re going snake hunting, up north, out west. Heard of some famous snake that’s taken a lot of lives along with him. We mean to make an end to his ways before he hurts anyone else. I pray you stay put, wherever you are. Keep your family safe, we’ll meet again soon.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ There’s a gift for you and your family waiting for you at the place we once called home. Before all the mess. Under an oak tree, facing west when the sunrise hits it.  _ _   
_ _ You know where.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Don’t follow us, be a good father.  _ _   
_ _   
_ _ Your old friend,  _ _   
_ _ Tacitus Kilgore.  _ _   
_

  
  
If he didn’t know better, he’d have sworn that Abigail's eyes were glistening with tears. So were his own. His hands shaking as he slowly folded the letter back into its original shape and stuffed it into his pocket.   
  
“ So… he’s.. “   
  
“ _Alive.._ “   
  
There was a moment of disbelief. As the words inside the letter began to run circles around in his head. The repercussions of this news all too clear to him.   
No words were able to express the division he already sensed between his beloved and himself, it was to be expected. She knew him, and he knew her. And the world always had a way to shake them out of their calm. So he swallowed his words. Letting the winds speak for themselves as they neared their campsite.   
  
Though, despite their combined efforts. The moment they set foot into their makeshift campsite, their son was onto the strange air that hung around them both.   
He came wandering out from his tent, tired looking. Having barely slept since they’d taken off in such a hurry from their last camp.   
  
“ Mommy? “ he called out, already rushing towards her and using her skirt as a hiding place as he often did. It was terrible leaving him alone in camp, but there were risks they had to take if they wanted to eat.   
  
“ Jack.. “ abigail started, kneeling down and running her fingers through the boy’s soft hair.   
“ you been good? “   
  
“ I have mommy.. “   
  
“ Did you see anyone around? No people? “   
  
“ No there’s no one “   
  
“ Good..”   
  
John watched them from where he was seated, still in the cart, contemplating the sudden change of circumstances they found themselves in. already the urge to return to his former lifestyle was nagging at him. Clawing like a wolf, unable to get it’s fangs out of his skin. Unable to leave him be.   
  
“ Jack.. Go and get some water for dinner. “ He heard abigail say, as he climbed out of their cart and walked towards them. The weight of the letter inside his coat holding him down.   
Once he was out of earshot, she turned to him, meeting him head on.   
  
“ Don’t start. “   
It was fast and furious like lightning, leaving him in shock as he stumbled over his words and thoughts. Her fire was enough to shock him. Even now.   
“ John marston! You are not going to chase after that rotten no good bastard. You hear me? “   
  
“ _Abby._. “   
  
“ Don’t you abby me! You have a family now! What about us? What about your son? You’re just going to leave us here? “  
  
“ you could come with me.. “   
  
“ _And put my son in danger? Have you lost your god damn mind!?_ “  
  
“ I can’t just leave them like that! They might be in danger abby! Arthur is the reason we’re still alive. If he’s out there, going after that son of a bitch, then i _have_ to help him! “   
  
“ You don’t have to do nothin’! The moment dutch left you for dead, that loyalty was broken! I don’t want nothing to do with that bastard! “   
  
“ Arthur ain’t no bastard. “   
  
“ No, but from the sound of it he’s still hanging around him. And if that’s the case.. Well.. their revenge isn’t ours. “   
  
He could feel his anger lapping at his insides, burning out through his skin. Their arguing was bound to make jack uneasy. As it always did.   
  
“ You don’t think he has it comin’? That monster got so many of us killed. “   
  
“ You want to be next!? “   
  
She was never one to coat her words with sugar when she needed to be sour and direct, stomping off towards the cart to start unloading their food and water.   
“ you know if you go after that.. _Horrible man._ He’ll hurt you. Or worse yet, he’ll kill you and i’ll be left alone with my boy. Who’s going to take care of us if you’re gone? “   
  
“ You don’t know that abby “   
  
“ Don’t i? What about sean? Susan.. They all ended up dead, i won’t lose you too. “   
  
“ _You ain’t losing me._ ”   
  
He caught her mid throw, as she swiveled on her heels and dropped the sack of potatoes that she was carrying. Her anger was as beautiful as her love. A true american spitfire. His hands rested slowly on her hips as he pulled her closer. The yelling dying down quicker than it started.   
  
“ _You can’t promise that_ “ she spat, though it lacked the burning heat of her rage. And she melted into his chest, arms wrapping around him and clinging to him as if he’d go up in smoke any second. Her lips finding his, crashing them together desperately to try and convey the pain her heart felt. When they broke away for air he smiled. His palm caressing the skin of her cheek, cupping it lovingly.   
  
“ I can.. And i will. “   
  
“ Promises like that, they never bring good luck along with them. “   



End file.
